


A little Experiment

by Lovethistoomuch



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovethistoomuch/pseuds/Lovethistoomuch
Summary: “So”, Crowley starts: “I've been thinking, with you enjoying food so much, have you ever tried any other form of human enjoyment? Not exactly food but something else?” Aziraphale looks up from his dessert, his expression openly puzzled and also a bit hesitant. “Like what?”, he asks. “Like kissing, for example?”, Crowley offers: “Humans seem to enjoy that quite a lot.”Crowley proposes a little experiment, regarding human ways of showing affection, such as kissing and sex. Despite the subject matter, however, this does not contain smut. Or so I think...





	A little Experiment

They are sitting in a restaurant like they have done so many times before. Crowley is watching Aziraphale eat, studies all the little expressions, the noises of pleasure that the angel makes, wondering, not for the first time, if he should finally propose it. And, why not? Aziraphale can just say no and than that's it. No harm done, right?

“So”, Crowley starts: “I've been thinking, with you enjoying food so much, have you ever tried any other form of human enjoyment? Not exactly food but something else?”

Aziraphale looks up from his dessert, his expression openly puzzled and also a bit hesitant. “Like what?”, he asks.

“Like kissing, for example?”, Crowley offers: “Humans seem to enjoy that quite a lot.”

Aziraphale's face reddens. He looks at his plate intently. “Why, Yes”, he says: “When I learned the Gavotte, that was in a gentlemen's club and there were some . . . kisses . . . but nothing that could not be describes as very chaste.”

“Chaste?”, Crowley repeats with a smile.

The angel shoots him a look without lifting his head up. “I suppose you as a demon would have more experience in that field”, he says in a tone that seems rather snippy.

Crowley leans back in his chair sprawling his limbs in a seemingly relaxed fashion. “Actually, I haven't”, he retorts: “Never kissed anyone in my life.”

This, finally, gets Aziraphale to raise his head and look at the demon fully. “Never?”, he echoes.

“Nah!”, Crowley looks towards the ceiling: “But I wouldn't mind trying . . .” There's a bit of a pause there before he adds: “How 'bout sex? You ever had that?”

He shifts his gaze from the ceiling back to Aziraphale who, suddenly, has turned even redder than before. “No . . . I . . . no, I've never . . .” There is some shock in his voice but more born from innocence. He is not speaking with revulsion.

“Yeah, me neither”, Crowley continues as if Aziraphale had just given a plain answer instead of this stumbling: “Though I can't help but wonder what's so special about it? I mean, humans do it all the time and it seems to give them some enjoyment...” He studies Aziraphale through his dark glasses, wondering if he should leave it at that, wait for the angel to bring it up again. But he probably never will...

“So”, Crowley continues: “With you enjoying all these earthly things so much, I was wondering, if you would like to try it out some time? See what it's like?”

“Couldn't you do that with a human?”, Aziraphale asks very carefully.

Crowley's brows furrow. “Well, yeah, but it would be kinda awkward, wouldn't it? With me not knowing anything about it and not knowing the person . . . and then, if I wanted to stop, if it was not right after all then there'd be quite some explaining to do and, even then: You and I come from the same angle, I mean, this outside view of everything. It'd be easier with someone who has the same mindset and the same expectations.”

This all makes sense, Aziraphale thinks, at least from Crowley's point of view, but there's a lump in his throat that won't go away. “The same mindset and the same expectations.” These words repeat themselves in his head. You're wrong, Crowley, he thinks but he cannot say it.

“Maybe”, he says very hesitantly: “Maybe we could . . .”

Crowley almost leaps up in his seat, before collecting himself. “Great, Angel!”, he says with a smile on his face that makes Aziraphale's heart do all sorts of things. Crowley in turn is glad that he is wearing his glasses, because he is sure that his eyes are far to expressive. He signals the waiter that they want to leave. “So, were do we go? My place or yours?”, he asks.

“Wh . . . now?”, Aziraphale does not know how to respond.

Crowley looks around for the waiter impatiently. “Yes, now. Why not?”, he says.

And Aziraphale cannot, for the live of him think of any reason. “I don't have a bed”, he finally says.

“So my place it is”, Crowley concludes. They walk out of the restaurant in relative silence. Once they get into the Bentley, Crowley puts on an AC/DC CD and seconds later, Queen is blaring. Neither of them talk.

When they arrive at Crowley's flat, they are both already extremely nervous. Aziraphale can feel his hands shaking as he sets foot into the stylish apartment for the first time. Crowley compensates by babbling on about his place and giving him a verbal tour of the entire thing before they even crossed the hall. Aziraphale doesn't register any of it.

Shakily, he removes his coat and places it on a hanger on the wall, his fingers brushing the fabric softly. In the next moment, Crowley has done the same with his jacket. They both stare at these two items of clothing for a moment, unable to look anywhere else. The white coat and the black jacket, side by side: Black and white, the biggest contrast in existence and yet somehow complimenting each other. Crowley turns towards Aziraphale, who does the same at the exact same time.

The angel's face looks soft, unsure, even frightened but Crowley's expression too is very gentle. “We don't have to do this, Angel”, he reminds his friend: “we can still call it off.”

“No!”, Aziraphale's voice sounds a bit panicky but he takes a deep breath and catches himself: “I want to do this! I really do!” He smiles and Crowley finally, finally takes off his glasses, folding them neatly and placing them in the pocket of his jacket beside him without even looking. His golden eyes are fixed on Aziraphale as he reaches out and places one hand gently on the angel's shoulder and neck, pulling, just a little bit. Aziraphale follows the pressure and steps forward, almost closing the space between them. Crowley is smiling and Aziraphale can feel a new kind of nervousness creeping up inside him.

“If you want to stop at any point, if anything makes you uncomfortable, please say so immediately”, Crowley almost whispers. His voices is very low and not only in volume. Aziraphale nods. He is not sure if he could speak at all if he tried. And then Crowley kisses him.

They kiss gently, hesitantly. Crowley doesn't really know what he is doing but that's okay, because neither does Aziraphale really. They hold each other and kiss and try and slowly, they seem to discover something, something they both like. It is very soft and pure and totally different than either of them had imagined but at the same time, strangely, it is exactly what they had imagined.

Even when things get heated, they are still very cautious, making sure that everything is alright, making sure that, yes, this is exactly what they both want!

Neither of them know how much time has passed but the sun is beginning to set as they finally lie in bed together, both exhausted, not yet ready to speak again. Crowley is lying on Aziraphale's left, the back of his right hand, as well as a portion of his right arm still resting on Aziraphale's chest, keeping the connection between them, even though they have separated now.

Crowley is drowsy. He closes his eyes with a smile, feeling the effect of all the different chemical substances rushing through his body, making him relieved and content and relaxed and just happy, but also sleepy. He knows that he technically doesn't have to sleep but the thought of him lying here with Aziraphale, slowly drifting off to sleep seems very soothing to him somehow.

But then, something is wrong. He doesn't know if it is a sound or a movement, or just a feeling, that makes him turn his head and look at Aziraphale but he does and suddenly his heart drops. The Angel is crying. He doesn't sob or move or make any noise really. He is just quietly lying there, tears streaming down his face. And suddenly, all that Crowley had felt seems to turn on it's head. His heart goes cold, his head seems to shut itself off, his throat tightens. Fuck!

“Angel”, he says in a hurry, his tone nothing but panic: “What? . . . I . . . I'm sorry! Was this too much? . . . I . . . I didn't mean to . . .” He takes his right arm away from Aziraphale's chest and suddenly the crying becomes more. There is a little flinch in Aziraphale's body and he covers his face with his hand as if to contain the sobbing that has just started. Crowley stares at him helplessly. “Angel, I'm so sorry”, he repeats: “I didn't want to . . “

“No. . .” Aziraphale's voice cuts him off very quietly but as soon as he hears the sound, the demon stops talking. “It's not . . . It's not . . . please don't apologise!” Aziraphale wipes at his face in a futile attempt to get rid of all the tears that keep streaming out of his eyes. “It's not . . . It's not that. I just . . .” Aziraphale takes a deep breath and finally looks at Crowely with very red eyes. “I know this was not much for you, an experiment maybe, but for me . . . It made me realise . . . I cannot deny it any more and . . . I know this is not the right way to do this . . .” He pauses, looks away again, tires to get rid of the tears. “I love you, Crowley”, he finally says and immediately starts sobbing harder, covering his face again. Crowley stares at the angel. This was not what he had expected, not quite . . .

Slowly, he moves towards the angel shifting his whole body and taking him into his arms very gently. Their skin brushes against each other, warm and soft. Crowley tugs Aziraphale's head under his chin, weaving his hand in the angel's hair and stroking his head gently. “It's alright, my Angel, my love, it's all right”, he murmurs.

Suddenly, there is a change in the little sobbing noises, a sharp intake of air. Crowley can feel that Aziraphale wants to say something and so he just answers the question before it can be uttered: “Of course I love you, Aziraphale, I've always loved you! So please stop crying!” He presses a kiss on the Angel's hair, just where his chin was touching before: “Don't cry, please . . .” And just like this, Aziraphale stops.

Crowley is still stroking his head and his hair but now he slides down a bit so that their faces are on the same level. Aziraphale smiles, eyes still very red and wet. “So, you didn't just propose this as an experiment?”, Aziraphale finally asks.

Crowley smirks. “No”, he answers “Or, well . . . It wasn't the only reason.“ And he leans in to press a soft kiss on Aziraphale's mouth.

The angel chuckles. “That was rather mischievous of you”, he declares as soon as he can speak again. He takes a deep breath, calming himself down. Crowley smiles fondly.

“Nevertheless, I did not expect this to have such an effect on me”, Aziraphale continues: “After all it was just a bit of human contact, nothing that special . . . one would think.” They both seem to think about this for a moment. “Then again, I guess it's called 'making love' for a reason . . .”, Aziraphale continues.

Crowley raises his eyebrows. “'Making love'”, he repeats: “Is that what we were doing?”

“At least I was”, the angel responds and Crowley cannot help himself: He draws the angel closer, achieving a full body hug, snuggling into him, feeling his presence. His hand still in the angel's hair, he presses soft kisses on his neck, his jaw, his cheek and finally his mouth. Aziraphale smiles into the kiss, his right hand also stroking Crowley's hair softly, his tears finally dried up.


End file.
